


These Days

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Nostalgia, Reconciliation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 06:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12978477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Thinking about the new MSR preview and all the scenes with the burgundy shirt and how they got there.





	These Days

Mulder has always been about as subtle as a bull in a china shop, especially when it comes to telling Scully exactly what he thinks and feels.  That’s why it came as a surprise to her how much he initially stuttered and stammered once they’d finally crossed the line into physical intimacy.  She’d wondered how he could be so impossibly nervous until she realized it wasn’t nerves at all, it was just a great need on his part to say and do what he thought was the most eloquent or right thing.  It had also surprised her just how much and how often he deferred to her and gave her the reins.  Though he asserted himself as the dominate force in their partnership, he was almost downright submissive in their relationship.

 

Now here they were, full circle from where they started, working together, but going home separately at the end of the day.  It’s less than ideal for her.  They’d made it through a very rough time together and they should be rewarding themselves for it.  Instead, she walks out the basement door at night, with Mulder by her side, but ends up in her car alone while he takes his commuter bus in the opposite direction.  She keeps offering to drive him home, but he keeps telling her he doesn’t want to trouble her.  She can see it in his eyes though, when he touches the small of her back to tell her goodnight, he doesn’t want her to walk away.  And dammit, she doesn’t  _ want _ to walk away, but she always does.

 

He flirts with her more nowadays than he used to.  Back then, it was mild and innocuous, not something she took seriously.  Now though, it comes from a knowing place.  It’s teasing and tantalizing, because he has the experience of knowing how to get her blood flowing.  It’s why he must bring up the D-word so often; something that was almost a little bit of a bone of contention between them at one time, but mostly for her.

 

_ Mulder, do you realize we’ve never even gone out on a date? _

 

_ What are you talking about, Scully, we’ve been on hundreds of dates. _

 

_ When? _

 

_ The stakeout on the Modell case when we shared the thermos of hot chocolate. _

 

_ That was a date? _

 

_ The ghost hunt on Christmas eve. _

 

_ That was most certainly not a date. _

 

_ Unbuttered popcorn and beer at my place. _

 

_ Mulder, do you even know what a date is? _

 

_ The popcorn was unbuttered, Scully.   _ **_Unbuttered_ ** _. _

 

He says it freely now, like saying it out loud makes it so, but now that she knows, in hindsight, that foggy cemeteries and abandoned houses were his unique way of wooing her, she can’t really help but fall for it all over again.  The problem is, for all this dating they’re doing, the date is over once the case is closed.  She just can’t take it anymore.

 

It’s Friday, and Mulder walks her out of the office.  She waits as he snaps off the lights and locks the door.  The walk to the elevator is unhurried.  He’s already loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button at his throat.

 

“Big plans for the weekend?” he asks, relaxing against the back wall of the elevator.

 

“No,” she answers.  “You?”

 

He shrugs.  The elevator dings and they step out into the parking garage.  They stroll to her car like they’re out for a Sunday walk and not headed anywhere in particular.  Their steps seem to slow as they get closer, as though they can extend the time together before saying goodbye.  He waits while she puts her bag in the back seat and then they face each other, bodies angled towards one another as they lean against the car.

 

“Well,” Mulder says.  “You have a good weekend.”

 

“Can I drive you home?”

 

“It’s out of your way.”

 

“I’m actually headed your direction anyway, so it wouldn’t be.”

 

“Really?  Where are you going?”

 

“Home,” she answers, her gaze unwavering.

 

Mulder’s lips twitch and purse, like he’s trying to hide a smile from her.  She opens her eyes a little wider and lifts her brows as she tilts her head a fraction, challenging him to take the next move, but he doesn’t say anything.

 

“Come on, Mulder,” she says, and then pauses to throw his own words back at him.  “It’ll be like a date.”

 

His lips twitch again and his chest swells with a swift intake of breath.  This time, he can’t stop the grin from spreading wide across his face.  She sees the innuendo in his eyes before he opens his mouth and she stops him by pushing away from the car and turning to the door.

 

“Get in,” she calls over her shoulder.

 

They listen to public radio on the hour long drive to the house and they don’t speak.  Scully is lost in her own thoughts most of the time.  She barely concentrates on the road once they’re outside the city and she’s just lucky there are hardly any other cars on the rural roads and that she can make the trek in her sleep.  Her brain is occupied with anticipating all the things she’s missed about being with Mulder, anywhere from the smell of his cologne on the pillows at night to the downright simple fact that she’s missed the sex.

 

She isn’t willing to admit that the reason there’s an overnight bag in her car and that she finally decided that tonight she would break this lonely habit of going their separate ways is because she misses the sex, but it is a very big part of why she’s making this drive right now.  It is, she’s decided, the only thing that’s lacking in the current incarnation of their relationship and she can’t think of any good reason to go without it any longer.  

 

When they get to the house, Scully makes no pretense about her intentions.  She pulls her overnight bag from the trunk, and without even asking, heads upstairs to the bedroom to wash her face and change out of work clothes into something more casual.  She’s got her hair pinned back and her blouse off and she stands at the bathroom sink, splashing water on her face, when she hears the creak of the stairs.  She smiles into her hands as she rubs face wash over her cheeks.

 

As she washes her face, she sneaks glances at him in the mirror and she knows he’s doing the same.  His tie comes off, his shirt, his belt, his undershirt, and then he turns his back to her as she pats her face dry and watches him more openly now that he’s not looking.  It seems he’s wearing boxer-briefs now instead of boxers.  His shoulders seem broader and his arms a bit more muscular.  That’s all she notices before he steps into a pair of jeans and turns around again and she has to go back to surreptitiously checking him out as she dries her neck.  That’s okay, there’ll be time for a thorough inspection later.

 

One of the things that Mulder used to appreciate, that she still finds endearing, is the pleasure he found in the mundane.  A moment like this, for her to be comfortable enough to stand at the sink in her bra while he changes behind her, she knows does more for him than if she’d greeted him at the door completely naked.  He’d like that too, but he takes more pleasure in the everyday and domestic things than she’d thought he would.

 

“What should we make for dinner?” she asks, hanging the towel back up on the rack by the sink.

 

“I think I might have some pork chops,” he answers from inside the sweater he’s pulling over his head.  “Rice, maybe.”

 

“Wine?”

 

“That too.”

 

She nods as she pulls a white tank top and burgundy colored shirt out from her bag.  Mulder goes into the bathroom and shuts the door.  She finishes getting dressed and lets her hair fall loose again just as he returns.  She’s dropping bobby pins into a the pocket of a small make-up bag when he comes back out and without stopping, spins her around at the hips and kisses her.

 

A part of her is taken by surprise and she makes a tiny ‘mmph,’ noise in the back of her throat before her eyes fall shut.  His lips are warm and soft, just like she remembered.  He also tastes like Listerine, so he obviously planned to kiss her before he left the bathroom.  It isn’t a frantic, have-to-have-you-now-type of kiss, but it is intense enough to pull a whimper from her.  He’s the first to pull away and she holds firm to his shoulders as she presses her forehead to his chest.

 

“Chicken breasts,” he says, running his hands up her sides to the back of her shoulders and then down again to her hips.

 

Scully chuckles, her shoulders shaking slightly as she twists her head against his chest.  One might think it absurd that he’d stop kissing her to talk about dinner, but it was very much like Mulder to do just that.  It was part of the way he extended things, by breaking them up into bite-sized moments.  It’s fine with her.  He can take all the time he wants, just as long as she ends up back in their bed before the night is over.

 

Sure enough, he finds ways to touch her as much as possible in the kitchen.  He puts a hand low on her back as she presses buttons to preheat the oven, ostensibly to reach above her for the bottle of wine in the cabinet above the stove.  He holds her hips as he squeezes by her to the refrigerator, even though there is plenty of space to move around.  He rubs her shoulders as she stirs rice into a pot of boiling water.

 

She’s just as guilty as he is at this game they’re playing though.  When he hands her a glass of wine, she takes care to toss her hair over her shoulder first and to bring her chin down and her eyes up to his as she sips.  She requests items she knows he needs to cross the kitchen for and presses back against him when he brushes by.  They’re both even worse at dinner.

 

“Could you pass the pepper,” Scully asks, casually dropping her hand to Mulder’s thigh as she leans towards the table for the shaker that she can definitely reach if she wants to.

 

Mulder reaches over and runs his thumb across her bottom lip.  “You’ve got…”  He doesn’t finish his sentence and it’s probably nothing anyway.

 

It’s one of the few times in her life that Scully can recall not caring the slightest about the dishes or putting away the leftovers.  When it’s clear they’re both finished, she stands and tips her head back to finish what little remains of the wine in her glass.

 

“How about a movie?” she asks.

 

“I believe the kids these days call it Netflix and chill.”

 

She takes his hand and pulls him to the front room.  She doesn’t even comment when he turns the TV on to an episode of Ghost Hunters, because it isn’t like they’ll be watching anything for long anyway.  She just sits beside him and waits.

 

And waits.

 

And waits.

 

She’s waiting for Mulder to make his signature move; to feign a yawn and stretch his arm out behind her.  It’s stupid and cliche and absolutely juvenile, but she’s loved it from the first time he’d done it because it was so ridiculous.  He slumps down a little and she tilts her head towards him, still waiting.  After a few more minutes, she slumps as well and leans closer, closing her eyes and feigning sleep.

 

When still nothing happens, she rolls her eyes open and looks at him.  He’s asleep.  At first she thinks, how?  Second, she thinks, dammit, we shouldn’t have had that wine.  Third...is there someone outside?

 

The End


End file.
